


1,000 Souls

by illustriousprotagonist



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Contracts, Drug Use, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Murder, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Soul Selling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:05:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6978898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illustriousprotagonist/pseuds/illustriousprotagonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the love of his life's tragic death, Gerard Way makes a deal with Satan. If he can send one thousand souls to Hell, he will see his beloved again. </p><p>(Based on the album Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Get Caught, Right?

Rain splattered against the sidewalk. Puddles were stepped in by Converse sneakers with the laces undone. Baggy jeans got wet and stuck to his legs uncomfortably. Sadness was on his mind and heartache was in his chest.

When he had heard from Ray--of all people--that his best friend, the love of his life, had killed himself in the bathroom, desperation burned in his heart. He still had the marks from his fingernails digging into his palms until he felt blood come to the surface. His heart bled, too, but it went unseen.

And when Gerard saw Frank, his heartache was rekindled. The sight of the man he once--and still--loved built a funeral pyre in his chest, burning the corpse of their broken love. Even though the fire burned hot, the abyss where the beating organ once laid was cold as ice. The funeral was beautiful, and seeing Frank held some sort of catharsis. But it never helped to ease the tension nor the discomfort.

And even now, as he walked to the cemetery, the ache in his chest only grew. His breath was becoming laboured.

He looked upon the rows of cemetery tablets, looking for Frank Iero. When he saw the name however, he had to do a double-take. The ache in his heart was still prominent, and reading the words etched onto the stone only made it worse.

_Frank Iero. Brother, Boyfriend, Son, Friend to All. October 31, 1981--July 18, 2016._

Gerard sat in the wet grass, not caring about his dress pants getting soaked. He pulled a silver flask out of his jacket pocket and unscrewed the cap. One whiff of the strong contents already made him woozy.

"Frank," he started, "why did you have to go? You could've told me what was happening."

He threw his head back with the flask and gulped down the alcohol. "Dammit," he swore, the whiskey burning his throat and mouth. "Dammit, Frank. I know--I know we were fighting, but... Fuck, Frankie! I could've saved you from yourself. Why wouldn't you let me in?"

Gerard shook his head, knowing he was talking to himself. "This is stupid. I know you're not even listening to me. How can you?" He laughed as the rain poured harder, soaking his jacket and pants more than they already were. It was almost if, he thought, Frank was speaking to him through the weather, telling him to shut the hell up. "I blame myself," he said, his voice cracking with impending tears. "I blame myself for letting this happen to you. Ray told me it was his fault that he didn't check on you sooner, and he's beating himself up for it."

Finally, tears fell down his cheeks, mingling with the raindrops. "I should've been there when no one else was. I'm sorry we fought when I knew you were volatile. I'm sorry." Gerard shut his eyes and laid back in the grass, vertically next to where Frank was sleeping six feet under.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth at his feet. The warmth turned into burning, hot and scalding. He pulled hims feet in as he sat up. The ground was on fire, much to his surprise. 

The fire was building up, going impossibly high and going against every law of physics Gerard knew from high school and beyond. Even in the pouring rain, the fire grew upward. 

Then, the fire morphed into...something, Gerard thought. The red and orange turned into a man in a business suit. Gerard gasped as the...creature stretched its neck muscles and flexed his shoulder blades. 

"Who...who are you?" Gerard asked, getting on his in a defensive position. 

The man cleared his throat. "To my followers, I am known as an omnipotent god, but I do not require to be treated as such. You may know me as Satan, the devil. But, please," the man put out his hands and shook them dismissively, "call me Lucifer. Everyone used to before I fell. But I digress--"

"What are you doing here?" Gerard asked, backing up. His voice cracked and his heartbeat sped up rapidly. 

"Please, Mr. Way. I do not like to be interrupted," Lucifer said angrily, his teeth grit. His voice sounded like a million different voices, all different pitches and tones, but compiled into one vessel. He turned his head, shaking it in an annoyed way. Then, the smile returned back onto his visage. "Do you know how hard it was to get here?"

Gerard wiped his mouth with his palm, "Do I want to answer that?"

"This man I'm wearing came from the dinner table. His wife and kids are scared to death, I can feel it! In fact, I thrive off it. Their fear, their ignorance, their sadness; it's all food for me. Do you know why I'm here, Mr. Way?"

"Is it because you want to take my soul?"

Lucifer laughed. "No, Mr. Way. Close, I'll give you that, but no. You see, the reason I'm here is because you're pitiful."

"Tell me something I don't know," Gerard spat.

"Ooh, fire. I like that! I'm here because you're pitiful, yes, but you're one of the most pitiful humans I've ever come across. I've been watching you for quite some time, Mr. Way, and I knew your little boy toy right there," Lucifer nodded in the direction of Frank's grave, "would off himself eventually. I also knew you would be so heartbroken. Your heartbreak, however, is unlike most I've had the pleasure of feeling. Yours is...all-consuming. Hatred, passion, sadness, extreme fear; Mr. Way, these fuel me. So, I've had a...contract, of sorts, in waiting for this exact moment."

"What kind of contract?" Gerard asked skeptically. 

"Well, the contract states that if you send one thousand--yes, you heard me correctly--human souls to Hell, you would see your beloved Frankie again."

Gerard was instantly invested. The prospect of seeing his love again...it was more than enough to bring him on board with this so-called contract. However, he also knew that Faustian contracts always had catches, so he asked, "What's the catch?"

Lucifer chuckled. "What do you take me for?" Gerard looked at him as if to say 'Really?' "Alright," he said. "Fine. The catch is that the souls have to be...non-religious souls. AKA, souls that are not involved in church activities. Because, if you kill the devout, they just go straight to," he clicked his tongue and pointed to the sky. Lucifer snapped his fingers and a scroll of paper unraveled before Gerard. "So, what do you say?"

Gerard mulled the thought of being a cold-blooded killer. "I can't get caught, right?"

"Well, technically speaking, you can get caught, it's just that you don't want to. Else that'll slow your journey down. Oh, and, uh, you might want to keep a journal of the names of all the people you kill."

Frank...murdering....Frank....murdering... Gerard thought about this for a long while. He would do anything to see Frank again, he realised, even if it meant taking another person's life--or a thousand peoples' lives. 

"I'll do it," he said suddenly.

"Really?" Lucifer said slowly. "Well, in any case, sign here," he pointed, "here, and here. Just procedure, you understand."

After Gerard had signed all three places, his signatures glowed brightly, the script catching on fire and burning into place. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Way. I'll come check up on your progress throughout your journey. Enjoy the feeling of blood on your hands, and don't forget about that journal!" Lucifer held out his hand for Gerard to shake. 

When Gerard took hold of Lucifer's hand, a burning sensation tingled up his whole arm. The tingle became a burn, and Gerard pulled away when the pain became too much. He looked at his palm, and an intricate pentagram design was burned into it. 

When he looked back up to Lucifer, the man was beginning to burn from his feet up. With a laugh, hellfire engulfed the man's entire body. Gerard looked when the fire burned down to nothing but tiny embers. The grass was charred, an eternal reminder of the contract that was signed in that exact same spot.

"A thousand souls, huh?" Gerard whispered. He looked upon Frank's grave. "Well, my love. It seems I'll be seeing you sooner than I'd thought."

 


	2. Oh, God, I Can't Do This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics at the end are flashbacks

"Oh, God. I can't do this," Gerard said as he paced the alleyway. The small notebook felt like an anvil in his pocket. The gun in his jacket only fueling the flames. 

A man had walked by Gerard seconds ago, and Gerard was trying to catch up to him.

"Excuse me, sir?" he asked.

"What's up? You need something, dude?" the man had replied.

Gerard pulled the notebook out of his pocket and flipped to a clean sheet. His moral compass was telling--yelling, more like--him that it wasn't a good idea, but he knew he had to do it. Half-assed reasons why the man needed to sign the book were floating through his head.

"There is going to be a new homeless shelter in town, and I am one of the contractors. Sir, are you _for_ or _against_ this happening?"

The man looked at him like he was crazy, but replied with, "Uh-- For, I guess?"

Gerard smiled. "Wonderful. I know this is a little impromptu, but would you care to sign this book?" He pulled out the little leather booklet. "I'm making rounds and I need one thousand signatures before the building can commence."

"That's great, dude," the man said with a crooked, nervous smile, "but I really have to leave."

Gerard saw the man turn to leave, but he grabbed him by the arm. "Please, sir. I need signatures." The line seemed rehearsed to the man, but Gerard knew it as an urgent call for help.

The man wrestled his arm from Gerard. "Get off of me, fucker!"

Gerard only held the man's arm tighter, his grip turning his own knuckles white as he dug his nails into the man's soft flesh. "I have a gun in my pocket," Gerard said. The phrase was not said maliciously, but it was said in a way that made it seem like a general statement. "If you don't sign this goddamn book, I'll put a bullet in your skull. Understand?"

The man glanced between Gerard's damp, sweat-glazed face and his own arm. Fear was laden in his eyes as he kneeled down before Gerard. "Listen, take whatever you want! I've got shares in the stock market, I've got a retirement fund put away. I have three kids and a beautiful wife. Please, take whatever you want, but don't kill me."

Gerard saw the man's terrified face and shaken voice. He contemplated whether or not it was right to kill this man. "You've got a wife, huh?"

"Y-Yes." The man had tears running down his cheeks, now.

"What's her name?"

"Laura."

"Laura, hm? Pretty name. Do you believe in a higher power, sir?"

"Is-Is this a fucking Q-and-A session?" the man spat back fearfully.

"Not a Q-and-A, technically, but a few questions to test whether or not you're worthy of my bullets." Gerard knew he sounded like a fucking maniac, but he didn't care. After this man, 999 more souls to reclaim.

"No, I'm not religious. M-My name is Sal, Sal Winters. Wh-what are you going to do with me?"

"Well, your answer was the one I was looking for. Thank you for your time, Sal," Gerard said, reaching into his pocket for the gun. 

It was a simple glock, but Gerard had had it for years. It was collecting dust on the shelves of his and Frank's closet. 

"So long, sir, and good night." Gerard put the gun to the man's throat, lifting his head up slightly. Sal pleaded for his life, mostly stuttering out bargains. It was futile, Gerard knew, for Sal would be dead anyway.

Gerard pulled the trigger, sending his hand back with recoil. Sal's blood splattered from the top of his head, some landing on Gerard's face and clothes.

As the reality of what he had done set in, Gerard dropped the glock onto the pavement of the alleyway.

"Oh, God," Gerard said with a shaky breath. "What did I just do?" He looked around, and much to his pleasure, found no security cameras to document his every move. He picked up the fallen pen and notebook, scribbling down "Sal Winters" in scrawled handwriting. Some blood landed on the cover and on a few pages, gluing them together.

Gerard closed his eyes. "What did I just do?"

_~~~~_

_The dance floor was lit up with colourful lights and music blaring out of the giant speakers lining the walls. The DJ called out from his stand, "All right! This one is for the lovers out there. Bring your love up to the floor and let loose!"_

_It was an upbeat romance song that had played. Frank curled his finger, beckoning Gerard from the booth, to come join him on the dance floor. Gerard had shook his head playfully, waving his hands dismissively._

_Frank had mouthed "C'mon," and Gerard had fallen prey to Frank's whims. Their dance went by in a blur of grinding and musky, suffocating sweat. The dampness in the air only fueled their desire, however, as they connected lips on the rainbow floor._

_No one seemed to notice the two lovers in the middle of the crowd. No one seemed to care._

_Even though those people didn't give a damn about them, Gerard gave all of his love to Frank. He didn't think it was possible for him to love anyone. To him, love was a volatile concept. You were able to construct love however you wanted, and it would still be called love. He didn't think it possible for love to float his way._

_Their hearts were soft and their eyes were gazing. Their souls were electric, engaged in a firey dance of passion._

_It was beautiful, and Gerard wouldn't have traded it for all the world._


	3. Something Bad Happened To Frank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hellions this is long overdue. I have no excuses other than the fact I've been super busy with school and international travel. I literally have no free time anymore. 
> 
> ANYWAY TIME TO GET CRACKING
> 
> Edit: If you've read the shorter version of this chapter before 6/20, i've updated it for your reading pleasure. It was really weak before I updated it

Gerard paced the gritty motel room, glancing at the television every few seconds. The "Sal Winters" story was all over. It had only been a two days since the "incident," and Gerard couldn't stop thinking about the way the man screamed and pleaded for his life. He had just robbed a man of his life, a wife of her husband, and children of their father.

But...the way Sal had  _screamed_ at Gerard, the way his eyes were blown as he put that gun under his chin, was absolutely incredible. He couldn't seem to get the image out of his mind. It was incredible, terrifying, and intoxicating all at once. Gerard thought, if he could do it once, he could do it a thousand times. The thought of being caught spurred him on. He and Frank were exhibitionists and voyeurs "in the bedroom," but this wasn't a sexual thing to Gerard. He had a purpose, and it was to see Frank again.

Gerard plopped down on the bed and looked about the room. It was standard, but covered in a layer of dust and grime. The poor management brought the room price down dramatically. He laid back and put his hands to his side, closing his eyes as his head hit the bed. The sound of news reporters on the television was the only thing keeping him awake. They were still harping about the Sal Winters story. In all his terror and fear, he forgot how tired he was. Soon, however, sleep overcame him and the T.V. was nothing more than white noise.

_Gerard woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. Reaching over, he slid the green answer button over on his phone. He put it to his ear as he greeted whoever was on the other line._

_"Gerard? It's Ray. Something happened to Frank. I'm on my way to the hospital now." Ray sounded frantic, like he was trying to catch his breath._

_Gerard sat upright in his bed, now fully awake. "Whoa, wait, slow down. What happened? Tell me everything."_

_"Frank, he..." Ray stopped, leaving his sentence bare._

_"Ray, tell me," Gerard said through gritted teeth._

_"I found him, in the tub." His voice wavered and broke. "I wanted to do something, but he wouldn't wake up. I yelled at him, but he wouldn't answer. Gerard, I-I don't know how to tell you this. The tub was still running when I felt water in the hallway. The bathroom was flooded, but... Oh, God, there was so much blood."_

_When Gerard heard "blood," he broke inside. Even though they were fighting, Gerard still loved Frank no matter what. Why did he do it, Gerard wondered. How did he do it?_

_"I'll be there in a few minutes, wait for me," Gerard shouted into the phone as he threw it on the comforter and stood up from the bed. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream, but there was a burning sensation creeping up his legs. He shook them, not knowing if they fell asleep. The burning turned to searing, and he cried out in pain._

He jerked awake, and realized it was just a dream. For a moment, he thought his entire life up until that moment was a dream, but the harsh reality hit him like a brick. The sharp sting in his legs were still there as he swung them over the side of the bed and rubbed his feet, trying to dissipate the pain.

"Hello, Gerard," a smooth voice spoke, spooking Gerard so much he jumped off the bed. He looked to see a man standing at the foot of the bed, smiling. "I see you're awake now."

Gerard had a vague idea of who he was, but he wasn't sure. "Lucifer?"

"Keen as ever, Mr. Way. I'm sorry I had to wake you so soon from your  _delicious_ dream. I know I was enjoying it. But I digress, we have business to discuss."

Gerard stood up and sat back on the bed, crossing his aching legs. "Business?" he asked, melancholic. "I killed a man."

"You did indeed, Mr. Way, and I applaud you. Such a gruesome scene, it was. Gave the poor bystander _quite_ an eyeful. Sal Winters, correct? Forty-two, father of three, husband. I can still hear his beautiful screams even on this boring plane. He's just burning, and I can smell his flesh."

"There was a bystander?" Gerard asked, slightly caught off guard

Lucifer's smile fell. "I'm afraid so. His name is Jonathan, I believe. He saw everything. He didn't want to believe he witnessed a murder, however, so he's been in denial. Jonathan hasn't gone to the police. Yet. But he will, and you need to eliminate him before he does so. He's going to go to the station in," he looked at the round clock on the wall, "about twenty minutes."

Gerard found it kind of funny that such an omnipotent being needed to look at a wall clock. However, the dire-ness of the situation brought him back to reality.

Gerard stood up quickly. "I'll do it. Another name for the book, right?" He laughed coldly. He walked past Lucifer to grab his jacket on the back of the chair in the corner of the room. "Where does he live?"

His smile widened once more. "It pleases me that you're so eager to complete this. The man lives in a light blue duplex. You know, the one you and your Frankie were looking at before you moved into your current house." Gerard's heart ached at "your Frankie" but he soon was brought back to the task at hand.

"Before I go," Lucifer spoke up once more, "I want you to know I cannot hold your hand through this entire ordeal if you so choose to progress. This one is free. The others will not be so." Gerard made his way to the door, nodding slowly. He picked up the name book from the small desk. "And, please, Mr. Way, leave no bystanders this time around."

By the time Gerard put on his jacket and picked up the book, Lucifer was gone, leaving behind two footprints burned into the carpet. He gave a quick once-over to the entire room, checking to see if he left anything behind.

Gerard checked out of the motel, not planning on returning. He began the ten minute walk to the row of duplexes, eager to finish what he started. The gravel crunched beneath his feet, and it soon became melodious. He looked up and down the street and realised the sun was beginning to set. He checked his phone, the time reading 7:14 PM. There was also a notification for his texts. He opened a message from Ray.

"You alright dude? You've been off the grid for a while. Just checking up on you, lmk when you're not busy and maybe we can get coffee."

Gerard had to stop in his tracks and recollect himself. He wasn't expecting any texts, and he sure as hell wasn't expecting Ray of all people. He quickly typed back a message of, "you have no idea" and kept walking.

And it was true. Ray had no idea about the path he had agreed to walk on, and Gerard planned to keep it that way. 

A few minutes later, Gerard had stumbled upon a row of duplexes but knew exactly which one Lucifer was referring to. Gerard held some resentment for the man who now owned the property, Jonathan. It was a beautiful home, and he and Frank were seriously contemplating buying it a time ago. Jonathan was sure one lucky bastard, Gerard thought.

It was ingrained into him by some supernatural force to stop right on the doorstep of the duplex. He took a deep breath, checking to see if the gun in his pocket was easy to grab. Gerard knocked on the door loudly, hearing some scuffling behind it. A young man opened the door with an expectant expression. "Can I help you?"

Gerard didn't think this far ahead, so he just came up with the most believable thing that came to mind. "My name is Leo West, and I am with Channel 2 News. Do you have a moment to answer some questions in regard to the recent death of Sal Winters?"

Jonathan looked surprised but conflicted. He finally relented and opened the door wider. "Yes, I suppose so. Come in."

Gerard stepped into the house and reminisced on what he and Frankie planned for the house, but he was snapped out of it by Jonathan. He led Gerard to the living area and motioned for him to sit. "Would you like some coffee, water? Anything?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"What kinds of questions did you want to ask?" Jonathan asked, rubbing his hands along the front of his pants as he sat down. "I thought Channel 2 already questioned everybody?"

Gerard never thought he'd get this far, so he just came up with whatever bullshit came to mind. "We have to go around, asking for statements. It's standard protocol around the station." He made a dismissive wave with his hands. He pulled out the tiny book from his pocket. "Did you know Sal at all? He lived in this neighborhood, I understand."

Jonathan chuckled nervously. "You couldn't have caught me at a worse time."

Gerard tilted his head. "How do you mean?"

"Uh, I was just about to go to the police station and make a report. It's been killing me, but...maybe it would be best if I just told you instead." Jonathan looked around the room, almost as if checking to see if someone were behind him. "I was walking downtown the night Sal was killed. I...saw everything."

Gerard gasped. "Tell me everything."

"Well, I-I've been trying to tell myself that it was just a really bad nightmare, and I tried to forget it all. I can't, I can't erase that awful sight of his brains--" Jonathan wiped his mouth with his hand. "I was walking down the street, and I heard a scuffle. I looked down the alley that I heard it from, and I saw...Sal. This man was over him, holding a gun to his throat. He whispered something like, 'So long, and goodnight' to him. Creepy motherfucker. Next thing I knew, the gun was pulled and the dude was just...over Sal. He sat down to write something in a little leather-bound book. I don't know what it was, and I don't care. I keep trying to convince myself that it was a bad dream, but it just keeps replaying and replaying and-"

Gerard held the book up to Jonathan. "Something like this?"

Jonathan was startled. "Yeah, how--how did you-?" His face lit up in remembrance. "It was you, wasn't it?  _You_ were the one who killed Sal."

Gerard stood up. "Bingo. It was a pity he had to die the way he did. Apparently, he was a good guy." He pulled the gun from his pocket, admiring it in full detail. "You know, you really shouldn't let strangers into your home willy-nilly." He laughed and shrugged. Gerard leaned in close to Jonathan's face, whispering, "Fatal flaw."

"What are you going to do to me?" Jonathan asked fearfully.

" _Really_? Somebody has a gun pointed at you and you wonder what they're going to do to you? Fatal flaw number two. You should really work on that. Oh, wait," he laughed again, "you kind of can't when you're dead."

"No, please don't kill me," Jonathan begged. "I don't have much, take whatever you want, just don't fucking kill me."

"It's funny. Sal said the exact same thing before he died. Well, he begged for his life, at least." Gerard kneeled down so he was face to face with Jonathan. "There's only one thing I want, Jonathan, and that's your signature in this book."

The man looked confused, his brows crinkling together. "I--Okay, I-I guess..." Gerard handed Jonathan the book and watched as he scribbled his name right underneath Sal's. He handed the book back and Gerard pocketed it.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Gerard said, raising and pointing the gun to Jonathan. He begged for his life a few moments more before Gerard pulled the trigger. A bullet went straight into his forehead, sending his head back onto the couch. He slumped over, dead. Gerard sighed, spotting the shell on the ground. He picked it up and put it in his pocket before looking around the room. Footprints weren't an issue, neither were fingerprints. He left the house as spotless as he entered, save for the body in the living room.

* * *

 

  _Gerard smiled as Frank lit up when they entered the kitchen area. "I could make literally everything in here, it's so spacious. I love it already," Frank sighed dreamily._

_"And I love it because you love it," Gerard said, kissing Frank's cheek. "I want you to be happy."_

_"It's everything we could've hoped for. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. It's nearly perfect." Frank scratched the back of his neck, looking uncertain._

_Gerard took notice. "Nearly? Something the matter?"_

_"I just want to keep our options open, y'know? This house_ is  _perfect, but I don't really know. There are at least three other houses within our budget. I just...want to finally live with my best friend and the love of my life." Gerard put his arms around Frank's neck, smiling into a kiss._

_"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. I always wanna see that smile."_

_"Whatever it takes?" Frank asked happily._

_"Whatever it takes."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr- illustriousprotagonist  
> instagram- dallonsweekes & polaroidfrnk

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr- illustriousprotagonist  
> Instagram- Polaroid.mcr  
> 


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